


Not-so-silent Treatment

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Reservoir Thots [33]
Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Daddy Kink, F/M, Makeup Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 17:23:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: fic from a prompt from a list i reblogged on tumblr (originally by @spettrocoli) i was asked to do for mr. blonde :>





	Not-so-silent Treatment

**10:**

**“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”**

You scoff at Vic’s comment, throwing your arms across your chest so they’re folded. “Really, Vic? You’re gonna start this again?”

“What?”

Shaking your head and huffing, you storm off to the kitchen sink and, without a word, fill it up with soapy water. If he’s gonna be like that, you’re gonna give him the silent treatment. Not the most healthy way to deal with a disagreement but it’ll give you something to do– the dishes had been sat festering for at least a day. As you begin to pull on the rubber gloves, you feel your roommate’s presence behind you and, sure enough, he wraps his arms around your waist. “C’mon, don’t do this again, doll,” he whispers, husky voice making your pussy clench. He presses his nose to your cheek and kisses it softly. “I don’t like arguin’ with you.”

You sigh, grabbing a plate and dunking it in the warm water. “I’m not playing your little game, not today Vic. I’m sick of it.”

“Didn’t say that last time, sweetie.” Although pushing it, his hopes are slightly crushed. He doesn’t do it to take advantage, that’s far from the truth– he’s being honest. He really hates arguing with you. The whole friends-with-benefits had started when you two were first introduced. Your close friend Mia had told you about a friend-of-a-friend’s brother, which just so happened to be Vic. After meeting one another a few times at some of her husband’s parties with the higher-ups in his business, you two had become close friends, occasionally meeting up for a bit of fun. Not six months later he had suggested you move in with him– you were struggling with money and, although Mia had offered to help out, you had wanted to make it on your own. After some comfort sex, Vic had proposed you live with him and split the rent, it being much cheaper than your place. Since then, your friendship has functioned more as a relationship, just without all of the commitment, which was appreciated on both ends. He could just be a little frustrating at times, trying to charm his way out of disagreements.

“You can’t just fluster me with your handsomeness every time we disagree on something, it’s getting a little tiring if I’m honest,” you say, scrubbing the plate

He watches the suds swirl over the dish. “I know. I gotta stop doin’ that. I can’t help it, guess arguin’ must make me horny or somethin’,” he chuckles. “But seriously, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever, just _tell_ me next time a job comes up. I nearly shit my pants when you were gone.”

Nodding, Vic swivels you round to face him, and you drop the sponge into the dishwater as he does so. “I will– listen, you still mad at me, baby?”

“A little.” You look up at him with bossy, innocent eyes and take off your gloves, resting them on the draining board. “I expect you to make it up to me, mister.”

His eyes perk up. “Yeah?”

“Mm.”

Almost instantly, he wraps those strong arms of his around you and throws you over his shoulder. Giggling and kicking your legs, you grip onto him as he carries you to the bedroom and throws you on the bed. “Now,” he announces, watching you get on your hands and knees, “since you were such a little bitch to me, I gotta teach you a lesson, sweetie.”

You chuckle at this. Of course he’s joking, just not about the ‘teach you a lesson’ part. And you’re damn ready for it. Feeling at the silk-white duvet, you smile to yourself as Vic fumbles around in your special cupboard. He pulls out a riding crop whip and you hear him saunter back behind you, standing beside the bed. With a smirk, he places it on the bed and his hands roam your ass, feeling up your skirt. “Mm, that’s a good girl,” he groans, hooking his fingers beneath your panties and slowly pulling them down. You clamp your mouth and eyes shut, doing your best not to moan. “You like that, doll? Daddy does.”

“Mhm.”

Hitching your skirt up to get a better view, Vic takes the whip from atop the bed and drags it across your ass. He makes sure it barely touches your skin. This man knows how to fucking tease you and he’s using it to his advantage, squinting with a smile. He doesn’t need to see your face to know you’re in absolute sexual anguish. Without warning, he brings it down on you, whipping your ass just the once. “S’at what you wanted, huh? That little slut want her fuckin’ beautiful ass whipped by daddy?”

“Uh-huh!” you cry, nodding desperately and sticking your ass up to entice him.

He obliges, whipping you again, enjoying your squeals. As your ass begins to turn pink, he runs a hand over it softly. “You want daddy to fuck you? ‘Cause I’d whip you some more but I know I’m the one that’s gotta make it up to you,” he whispers, stroking your ass.

“Please.”

“C’mon, get on your back then, sweetie,” he smiles, his belt buckle jingling as he undoes it. As he unbuttons his shirt and kicks off his jeans, you toss your skirt & top onto the carpet and turn over onto your back. Smirking, Vic crawls on top of you, cupping your cheek. “You just leave daddy to do all the work today.”

Nodding with a smile, you let him fuck you missionary-style. The next ten minutes had consisted of you burying your face in his large shoulders, muffled squeals overpowered by manly grunts. He flops beside you, hastily draping an arm around your shoulders. You huddle up to him, ass stinging and his cum between your thighs. “Am I fully forgiven now?” he asks, pressing a playful kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see how I feel tomorrow. Might need a bit more persuasion,” you wink.


End file.
